Winslow and Captain Sam, watching him, saw his face, to which the color had returned in the last few minutes, grow white again.He staggered a little.Jed stepped toward him.
"What is it, Phin?" he asked."Somebody dead or--"Babbitt waved him away."No," he gasped, chokingly."No, let me be.I'm--I'm all right."Captain Sam, a little conscience-stricken, came forward."Are you sick, Phin?" he asked."Is there anything I can do?"Phineas glowered at him."Yes," he snarled between his clenched teeth, "you can mind your own darned business."Then, turning to the boy who had brought the message, he ordered:
"You get out of here."
The frightened youngster scuttled away and Babbitt, the telegram rattling in his shaking hand, followed him.The captain, hurrying to the window, saw him go down the walk and along the road in the direction of his store.He walked like a man stricken.
Captain Sam turned back again."Now what in time was in that telegram?" he demanded.Jed, standing with his back toward him and looking out of the window on the side of the shop toward the sea, did not answer.
"Do you hear me?" asked the captain."That telegram struck him like a shock of paralysis.He went all to pieces.What on earth do you suppose was in it? Eh? Why don't you say somethin'? YOUdon't know what was in it, do you?"
Winslow shook his head."No," he answered."I don't know's I do.""You don't know as you do? Well, do you GUESS you do? Jed Winslow, what have you got up your sleeve?"The proprietor of the windmill shop slowly turned and faced him.
"I don't know's there's anything there, Sam," he answered, "but--but I shouldn't be much surprised if that telegram was from Leander.""Leander? Leander Babbitt? What...Eh? What in thunder do YOU want?"The last question was directed toward the window on the street side of the shop.Mr.Gabriel Bearse was standing on the outside of that window, energetically thumping on the glass.
"Open her up! Open her up!" commanded Gabe."I've got somethin'
to tell you."
Captain Sam opened the window.Gabriel's face was aglow with excitement."Say! Say!" he cried."Did he tell you? Did he tell you?""Did who tell what?" demanded the captain.
"Did Phin Babbitt tell you what was in that telegram he just got?
What did he say when he read it? Did he swear? I bet he did! If that telegram wan't some surprise to old Babbitt, then--""Do you know what 'twas--what the telegram was?""Do I? You bet you I do! And I'm the only one in this town except Phin and Jim Bailey that does know.I was in the telegraph office when Jim took it over the wire.I see Jim was pretty excited.
'Well,' says he, 'if this won't be some jolt to old Phin!' he says.
'What will?' says I.'Why,' says he--"
"What was it?" demanded Captain Sam."You're dyin' to tell us, a blind man could see that.Get it off your chest and save your life.What was it?"Mr.Bearse leaned forward and whispered.There was no real reason why he should whisper, but doing so added a mysterious, confidential tang, so to speak, to the value of his news.
"'Twas from Leander--from Phin's own boy, Leander Babbitt, 'twas.
'Twas from him, up in Boston and it went somethin' like this: 'Have enlisted in the infantry.Made up my mind best thing to do.Will not be back.Have written particulars.' That was it, or pretty nigh it.Leander's enlisted.Never waited for no Exemption Board nor nothin', but went up and enlisted on his own hook without tellin' a soul he was goin' to.That's the way Bailey and me figger it up.Say, ain't that some news? Godfreys, I must hustle back to the post office and tell the gang afore anybody else gets ahead of me.So long!"He hurried away on his joyful errand.Captain Hunniwell closed the window and turned to face his friend.
"Do you suppose that's true, Jed?" he asked."Do you suppose it CAN be true?"Jed nodded."Shouldn't be surprised," he said.
"Good gracious king! Do you mean the boy went off up to Boston on his own hook, as that what's-his-name--Gab--says, and volunteered and got himself enlisted into the army?""Shouldn't wonder, Sam."
"Well, my gracious king! Why--why--no wonder old Babbitt looked as if the main topsail yard had fell on him.Tut, tut, tut! Well, Ideclare! Now what do you suppose put him up to doin' that?"Winslow sat down in his low chair again and picked up the wooden sailor and the paint brush.
"Well, Sam," he said, slowly, "Leander's a pretty good boy.""Yes, I suppose he is, but he's Phin Babbitt's son.""I know, but don't it seem to you as if some sorts of fathers was like birthmarks and bow legs; they come early in life and a feller ain't to blame for havin' 'em? Sam, you ain't sorry the boy's volunteered, are you?""Sorry! I should say not! For one thing his doin' it makes my job on the Exemption Board a mighty sight easier.There won't be any row there with Phineas now.""No-o, I thought 'twould help that.But that wan't the whole reason, Sam.""Reason for what? What do you mean?"
